


Paint a Smile on and Colour Me In

by Demenior



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Each chapter has individual rating, Gen, M/M, Multi, Non-Penetrative Sex Toys, Sex Is Fun, Sex Toys, Tags Updated as Chapters are Posted, safe sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 10:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10762713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demenior/pseuds/Demenior
Summary: Fills for my 700 Followers Milestone. Pairings will be updated as chapters are posted, and each chapter has an individual rating. The mature rating is more of a catch-all.





	Paint a Smile on and Colour Me In

**Author's Note:**

> [[Prompt List Can Be Found Here]](http://demenior.tumblr.com/post/159448730021/demeniors-700-followers-extravaganza)
> 
>  
> 
> This is for [demonicwanderer](http://demonicwanderer.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!
> 
> PROMPT: "Your resume is impressive", modern au and as filthy as [I] would like  
> PAIRING: Shiro/Rahjim [my oc from the story Royally Screwed]  
> WARNINGS: Casual references to what was clearly a very toxic relationship and casual mentions to past sexual encounters that can be interpreted as dubiously consensual. Very low-key casual ableism.  
> RATING: Explicit
> 
> There's an embarrassing amount of personal accounts in this story. But I'm going to pretend that all of my drunken misadventures were just me being a good writer and getting in all of my research to make this as accurate as possible.

The music is so loud that Shiro has to lean down so Matt can yell in his ear to hear him. He has to repeat himself, and when that still fails to work, Matt points in the direction of the bathroom. He's gone before Shiro can even ask if he wants Shiro to wait for him, and then it's just Shiro, alone, on the dance floor.

Going out clubbing used to be Shiro's favourite way to spend any weekend, but this is his first time out in a long time. It was a big weekend, with Shiro's first internship interview since the accident. He's finally moving on with his life, and so it was time to celebrate.

Matt also knew just as well as anyone that Shiro was nervous going out now. Which was why Matt had insisted, had even decided they were going to Shiro's favourite gay club even though it was out of the way for both of them. He'd gone so far as to promise to fight any creep if they made Shiro feel uncomfortable.

Shiro had debated for days about wearing his prosthetic or not, and ultimately decided on no. He didn't want it getting knocked around, or worse, damaging it somehow. Now he wonders if that was the right idea because he keeps having to pull up the sleeve on his shirt where it keeps unrolling. Maybe he should just tuck the cuff into his pocket? No, he tried that in the mirror earlier and he hated the look.

Shiro doesn't know any of the music anymore. He used to enjoy anticipating the drops and the remixes, but now it just sounds like  _ noise _ and it's giving him a headache. Shiro feels old, and he's not happy about it. His feet hurt and he wants to go home.

Matt will probably be okay with it— he’d been trying to coax Shiro into a more festive, less anxious mood and may have smoked and drank a little too much during predrinking. He’s been  _ woo _ -girl wasted since they left for the club. Considering two drinks is enough to knock Matt out most nights, Shiro's surprised that he's still standing.

Speaking of— how long has Matt been in the bathroom now? Shiro should probably check in on him.

He's about to start moving through the crowd when the music changes, and he feels someone press up behind him.

Oh.

There's a warm hand on his hip and Shiro's genuinely in shock. He's been highly aware that he's no longer attractive like he used to be. He dances awkward now, still a little stiff with scar tissue, and a little unsure about what he’s doing. He’s dressed like a nun compared to how he used to dress, and there's not much he can do to hide the huge scar on his face. Everyone’s been giving him a wide berth.

Whoever’s trying to dance with him is either drunk or desperate. Shiro can work with that. It won’t be long before they realize he’s missing an arm and slide away, so he’ll take what he can get.

Even though he doesn’t know the song, all beats are essentially the same and the two of them find some form of rhythm. Big hands are running up his sides, feeling him up, and for a moment Shiro can’t help but smile. He likes this, he likes feeling attractive, feeling wanted. At one point he knows the guy made contact with his, well, stub. The song changes and Shiro’s sure he’s going to excuse himself and flee. Shiro turns because he at least wants a glimpse of who he was dancing with, so he can feel miserable about the sort of lowlife he attracts now.

The guy hasn’t moved. In fact, he might be standing closer. He’s tall, and Shiro’s considered a tall dude. And, wow, okay. He’s handsome. Shiro can’t pin his age but he looks like he might be a little older, probably decently off based on his clothes. He's got dark skin, and thick dark black hair. Shiro gets the vibe that he’s a respectable man, and he’s smiling down at Shiro with what are probably manners. A nice guy.

So he’s totally not Shiro’s type then.

The guy takes Shiro by the waist and Shiro wishes he could hate how he wants to melt into the touch. He leans in and shouts, but all Shiro makes out is the word ‘go’, and the guy nods to the bar.

Shiro has nothing better to do, so he follows the guy off the dance floor.

It’s quieter at the bar, and they both lean up against it with their hips, facing each other.

“I’m Rahjim,” the man introduces himself, holding out his right hand.

“I’m, uh, Shiro,” Shiro awkwardly waves what’s left of his right arm. If he ever had the choice of which arm he was going to lose, he’d have chosen the left.

Rahjim’s eyebrows hit his hairline and he grimaces.

“I’m so sorry,” Rahjim says, “left?”

Shiro shakes his head, “It’s fine.”

Rahjim’s already holding out his hand, so Shiro takes it. Handshakes are weird with the left hand. Everything feels off. Shiro knows that people are trying to be accommodating for him when they do it, but it just keeps driving home how he’s not  _ normal _ anymore.

Rahjim seems to be feeling just as awkward, because he laughs and smiles brightly at Shiro.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Shiro  _ should _ be going to find Matt. They’ve been separated for too long now and Shiro worries about what Matt can get up to without him to bail him out. But it’s a small venue. This wouldn’t be the first time one of them has had to do laps to find the other.

“Was that your boyfriend?” Rahjim asks nervously.

It takes Shiro a moment to realize that Rahjim must have seen Matt with him earlier.

“No, no,” Shiro clarifies, “just a friend. He’s just… been gone a while…”

A glance at Rahjim’s face shows that he’s making the connection that Shiro’s about to use an excuse to bolt.

Shiro does want to find Matt, but he’s gonna trust that Matt is a big boy and knows how to take care of himself. Shiro wants to be flirted with.

“But I’m sure he’s fine,” Shiro finishes, and settles in against the bar.

Rahjim smiles again, even in his eyes. The bartender pops in and Shiro lets Rahjim pick. They end up with two beers, refreshingly cold, and move to some of the seating areas. There’s plenty of groups and couples taking up space, so they end up wedging onto one couch together, pressed together from shoulder to knee. Rahjim has an arm up on the couch— over Shiro’s shoulders, and Shiro’s really enjoying the attention. He’s not sure how far the pity is going to get him— or if Rahjim is weirdly into amputees, but for the moment he just wants to enjoy the beer and enjoy being hit on.

“So, you’re here with your friend?” Rahjim asks. He still has to shout to be heard.

“Celebrating,” Shiro agrees, and then adds, “I have an interview on Monday!”

Rahjim holds up his beer for a cheers, “Congratulations!” he says. They clink their bottles together, hard enough that Shiro hears it over the music, and they catch each other's’ eye as they both freeze, worried that they might have broken something.

They both burst into laughter at the expression on each other’s faces. Shiro leans closer into Rahjim, and feels Rahjim’s arm come off the couch to fall over his shoulders now. He’s close enough that when he lowers his beer to say something, he turns his head and his nose brushes Rahjim’s cheek.

Shiro forgets what he was going to say.

“You’re very handsome,” Rahjim says.

Shiro wishes he had his other hand. He’d be stroking Rahjim’s thigh, or maybe touching his chest. He’d be receptive to the attraction, but his hand is occupied with his beer and he doesn’t want to spill it on Rahjim.

So, instead, Shiro tilts his head up and kisses Rahjim. Rahjim’s hand comes up to cradle the back of his head, and he’s kissing back. Shiro had missed this so much. Rahjim tastes like beer and the awful cocktail of highballs and cheap shots that go along with a night on the town. It’s so familiar, and yet altogether new, and he’s so  _ warm _ and eager. Rahjim’s other hand comes around to grip Shiro by the waist, and Shiro’s not sure where Rahjim set his beer but Shiro would love to put his down so he can touch back.

The break apart long enough for Shiro to do just that, leaning forwards a bit to set his beer on the small table in front of them. Rahjim’s hands are so broad and warm on his body, and Shiro’s already thinking about maybe seeing how far he can get this to go.

That is, of course, exactly when Shiro spots Matt dancing on the outside of the caged platform on the dance floor, poorly attempting to shake his white ass for a crowd of screaming girls, and it’s exactly when Matt falls  _ off _ the platform.

“Shit,” Shiro hisses, and jumps up.

He has to fight across a section of the dance floor and shoves a few people aside to get to Matt.

Matt is at least sitting up, and there’s a drunk girl trying to press an ice cube from her drink to his head to help. Bless drunk people, they mean so well. Even if they’re all idiots.

Shiro kneels down in front of Matt, “You okay?”

Matt groans, and he might say something but Shiro can’t hear him. He’s so far gone it’s a miracle he was even able to climb on the platform at all.

“Do you need an ambulance?” someone asks beside him. Shiro jumps. It’s a bouncer.

“No, no,” Shiro assures him.

“He can’t stay,” the bouncer says.

_ Obviously _ , Shiro wants to say.

“Yeah, we’re leaving,” Shiro says instead.

Trying to wrangle Matt with two hands was always hard enough. With one feels next to impossible. Matt is more like a limp doll and Shiro wishes he’d brought his prosthetic because then he’d just hook it into Matt’s dumb shirt and drag him outside.

But they manage, at least. Matt is going to owe Shiro a crate of KD for taking care of him tonight.

They’re lucky they didn’t bring coats to check, so Shiro just hauls Matt outside. The night air is refreshingly cold, and it helps Shiro to sober up. There’s already taxi’s waiting, thank god.

This is when Matt, because he’s determined to be so helpful tonight, pitches over and hurls on the sidewalk.

Oh, great. They’re never going to get a taxi now. Shiro pulls Matt to the side where he can finish puking while Shiro figures out how they’re going to get home. If they can’t get a taxi then they’re going to have to catch the train— is the train still running? Shit, what time is it? The closest station is a few blocks away, so they’re gonna have to hustle if they want to catch it. He’s not sure if Matt’s able to keep that kind of pace.

Well, it’s that or they’re going to have to walk the whole way home. They’ve done it before, but Shiro was also considerably drunk at the time. And younger. He’s not looking forwards to that tonight. Besides, that had been in the height of summer, and it’s starting to get cold now.

“Is he okay?” a voice asks behind him.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s fine,” Shiro turns to wave off the spectator, and pauses. It’s Rahjim.

Oh right. Shiro had forgotten he’d been in the middle of making out with someone when Matt took his fall.

“We’ll be okay,” Shiro assures him.

“How far is home?” Rahjim asks, “I hope you can walk.”

Shiro grimaces and Rahjim nods in understanding.

“Forgive me if this is too forwards, but my condo is only a few blocks away. Easy walking distance. I’ve got a couch to crash on,” Rahjim offers.

Shiro runs through every possible way for them to get home tonight, and his feet are aching and he’s cold and doesn’t want to wait for Matt to stop puking so he can convince a cab to take them home. He doesn’t want to walk and ride the train and walk some more to make it home.

“Are you sure?” Shiro asks, “you don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind,” Rahjim says, “is he good to go?”

Shiro turns back to Matt, and has to bend to talk to him.

“Hey, so, I’ve got an offer to crash at someone’s place tonight. He seems like a nice guy, so I think it’ll be okay. We’ll head out first thing, but I think it’s better to get you to bed soon. Is that okay?” Shiro asks.

Matt dry-heaves, and then nods, “Bed sounds good,” he mumbles.

Shiro’s too tall to comfortably pull Matt’s arm over his shoulder, so he hooks their arms together and starts tugging. Matt comes along easily, head down like he’s half-dead, and barely keeping one foot in front of the other.

“Follow me,” Rahjim says, and falls into step beside Shiro, “it won’t take long.”

* * *

 

Rahjim’s place is pretty swanky. He must be a bit older than Matt and Shiro to have a job that can afford this. Thankfully Matt’s mostly stopped puking, at least long enough for the elevator ride. He got most of it out behind the dumpster while Shiro had popped into the 24-Hour convenience store to grab supplies.

Shiro gets Matt situated in the bathroom. Making it up the elevator must have done something to him because he’s started gagging again, but he’s got his gatorade and he knows how to handle himself. Once he stops puking Shiro’s bought some pepto and advil to save his life for later.

Shiro pops his own gatorade— a sensible blue flavor, unlike Matt’s disgusting, hedonistic yellow that he adores so much— and takes a refreshing drink. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until now.

Rahjim is laying out blankets on the couch, and Shiro comes over to help.

“This is really, really kind of you,” Shiro says.

Rahjim shakes his head, “I’ve been in your shoes. I know what it’s like to need something to go easy. It’s no trouble.”

“Matt isn’t usually like this,” Shiro explains, “he never gets carried away this badly. But, um, he’s really good about being clean. As long as he’s got a bowl or a garbage bin, then he shouldn’t make a mess. Also, I promise I’ll clean everything before we go.”

Rahjim regards him curiously, “You’re very considerate,” he finally says, “now, I only have the one couch, but I do have a big bed. I can take the couch tonight if you two will be more comfortable—”

“No!” Shiro protests immediately, “we are not kicking you out of your own bed. You’re doing  _ us _ a favor. I’ll take the couch. Besides, Matt’s so drunk that he won’t even notice he’s on the floor.”

“I hate the idea of anyone sleeping on the floor when no one has to,” Rahjim points out.

“It’s fine,” Shiro waves him off, “we’ve done it plenty of times. It’s just one night.”

Rahjim's totally going to argue, but then Matt stumbles into the room.

“Shiro,” he groans, “where's’he dicks?”

He looks pathetic, clinging to the doorframe like he can't stand. His head is drooping on his shoulders.

Shiro moves over to help hold him up, “The what?”

“Th’dicks! Fries’n’food! Snack wrap,” Matt mumbles.

“Oh,” Shiro realizes, “no McDonalds on the walk home, sorry buddy. We’ll get it for breakfast.”

“Fuck their cinnemelts,” Matt growls.

“Fuck ‘em,” Shiro agrees.

It takes some effort to convince Matt to lay on the floor. He has a hard time understanding why he can't sleep on the couch and then keeps forgetting when Shiro explains. Eventually though, he curls up, clutching his piss-yellow gatorade. Shiro tucks him in and sets an open garbage bin beside him.

Rahjim is in his fridge when Shiro gets back to him. Save for the bedroom and bathroom, which are separate, the whole floor is an open layout.

“Water?” Rahjim offers, “or another drink?”

The flirty thing to do would probably to accept another drink. But Shiro's tired and parched.

“Water,” he says.

Rahjim hands him a cold bottle of water, and takes one for himself.

“Join me on the balcony?” Rahjim asks.

It occurs to Shiro now that he's in the home of the man who is clearly interested in him, and now it's just the two of them.

He follows Rahjim onto the balcony. There's not much, some folded chairs set to the side, and a small bench on the other side. Rahjim takes up the far side of the bench.

Shiro takes a last glance at Matt, who hasn't moved and is hopefully passed out by now, and then goes outside. There's enough room that he and Rahjim could sit apart, but Shiro moves closer so that he nearly sits in Rahjim’s lap, and leans into him. Rahjim brings his arm up to accommodate, setting it over Shiro's shoulders to hold him close. Shiro drinks it in for a moment. The cool air around them, the warm feeling of Rahjim at his side and the vaguely sweaty, masculine scent of him.

Shiro holds the water bottle between his thighs so he can unscrew the cap.

“Sorry,” Rahjim realizes, “I should have-”

“It's okay,” Shiro cuts him off, “really. Despite appearances I am capable of fending for myself.” He laughs at the end, to be clear that he's joking, not scolding.

“I believe you,” Rahjim says sincerely.

Shiro readjusts himself, leaning his head onto Rahjim's shoulder and curling closer. He closes his eyes and breathes in, feeling calm and excited at the same time. He's missed this kind of closeness with people.

“Thanks again,” Shiro says, “for letting us crash.”

Rahjim brushes his thumb along the curve of Shiro's shoulder.

“It's no trouble,” Rahjim assures him.

They sit in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the city.

They'd chatted, more to pass the time, on their walk to Rahjim's condo. In between Matt’s black-out rants and having to pause to puke, Rahjim and Shiro had pieced together a decent conversation for two reasonably drunk people.

Overall Shiro knew that Rahjim was a nice person, and that he felt like he could trust him. Even if they'd only known each other for a short time. That could be the alcohol talking, and possibly a friendship forged in the trials of wrangling a drunk Matt Holt.

The elephant in the room is that Rahjim still hasn't asked about Shiro's arm, or his scars. The scar on his face, while healed nicely, is big enough that it's pretty clear it’s the result of some sort of trauma. Shiro's accepted it's going to be a talking point and conversation starter for most of his life, most likely.

He feels comfortable, with his face more the crook of Rahjim’s neck so he doesn't have to look at him, so he decides to get it out of the way.

“I was in an accident. Car went off the road. Was in the hospital for months, and then stuck on bedrest even longer. Finally decided to get back in the world so I've been job hunting for the last few weeks, hence the excitement about the interview on Monday.”

There. It's practically a life story, but he doesn't have to go into details.

Rahjim bends his head to press a kiss to Shiro’s temple. It's oddly affectionate and makes Shiro smile.

“You’re amazing,” he finally says, “that's incredible.”

“I wanted to get that out of the way,” Shiro shrugs, “I know everyone's curious.”

“I was,” Rahjim admits, “I felt it was rude to ask.”

Shiro sits up a bit to gesture at his right arm, “I'm getting used to it, I think. People stare wherever I go, but it's… I guess it's better than being dead.”

“But left handed,” Rahjim sighs exaggeratedly, “you understand that's unnatural, right?”

Shiro laughs.

Rahjim nuzzles against him, pressing a kiss to the corner of Shiro’s jaw.

“I can’t imagine what that must have been like,” Rahjim admits, “do you believe in fate?”

Shiro turns to face him and their noses are nearly touching, they’re so close, “If you say ‘it was fate that we met tonight’ I’m going to laugh. That’s so cheesy.”

Rahjim grins without a hint of shame, and Shiro throws his head back to groan at the awful line.

He feels Rahjim’s open mouth on his throat, hot and wet with a press of teeth. Shiro’s groan changes into a breathless gasp. Rahjim’s hand on his shoulder holds him tight, the other finds Shiro’s knee and starts to slide up his thigh.

“Why me?” Shiro asks.

Rahjim pulls back a moment, confused. Shiro grabs his hand, keeping it on his thigh, before Rahjim can pull away.

“I’m not saying stop,” Shiro says, “just… why me?”

“I’m very drawn to how much you care,” Rahjim says after a moment, “you have a lot of love in you— you’re kind. Not just to your friends, but to strangers. And you have admirable leadership qualities, all things I find very attractive.”

His hand is still sliding up Shiro’s thigh. Shiro shifts to spread his legs wider, hyperaware of the heat of Rahjim’s palm through the fabric of his pants. His water bottle drops, but neither of them seem to care,

“And then look at you,” Rahjim says, and he pauses a moment, his hand right at Shiro’s inner thigh, “I couldn’t believe anyone was letting you dance alone. You’re unbelievably handsome.”

“I was,” Shiro agrees.

Rahjim nearly headbutts him when he presses their foreheads together, “Don’t talk like that. You’re  _ alive _ . You’re reclaiming your life. There really isn’t anything more beautiful than that.”

Shiro kisses him rather than reply. Rahjim is a really good kisser. He’s not sloppy with his tongue, he’s not too forceful, and he moans just loud enough that it sends a shiver down Shiro’s spine.

“May I touch you?” Rahjim whispers.

Shiro realizes his hand is still gripping hard to Shiro’s thigh.

“Please,” Shiro begs.

Rahjim cups Shiro through his jeans, grinding his palm down with enough force that Shiro whimpers into his mouth. He hasn’t been touched like this since before the accident, even longer actually, since his relationship had been in red levels of fucked up before that.

Shiro brings his hand up to touch Rahjim. At first he’s not even sure where to start, so he starts at the collarbone and starts to trail his fingers down. Rahjim is firm, with a promise of muscle and his skin is smooth where Shiro pops the first button on his shirt to get his hand under the fabric. Rahjim makes appreciative noises at that.

“Shiro?” Matt groans from behind him.

Shiro pulls back from sucking on Rahjim’s tongue, and turns to face Matt, a little mortified. Rahjim’s hand is pretty much  _ in _ his pants, and Rahjim makes no effort to move it.

“Yeah, bud?” Shiro asks.

Matt is barely standing, with one foot out on the balcony and his head down.

“I think I’m drunk,” Matt whines.

Shiro bites his lip to keep from laughing, “Yeah, yeah you are. You should probably go back to sleep.”

Matt nods, chin still tucked to his chest, “Yeah… wheres’a bathroom?”

“You gonna be sick?” Shiro asks quickly. He’ll get Matt to lean over the balcony while he runs for the garbage bin if that’s the case.

Matt scrunches up his nose and lifts his head enough to glare at Shiro, “I gotta pee, weirdo.”

“Bathroom is straight through from here— you should see the door from the couch. The other door is to the bedroom,” Rahjim explains.

Matt looks startled to be addressed by someone other than Shiro, and his baffled face makes Shiro want to laugh. And then, finally, Matt seems to put together the fact that Shiro and Rahjim are out on the balcony  _ alone _ .

So Matt does an incredibly drunken Matt Holt thing, and attempts to make fingerguns at them and declares, “Right to pound town!”

And then stumbles back inside.

Rahjim snorts loudly and presses his face to Shiro’s shoulder while Shiro arches his neck to try and see if Matt makes it to the bathroom. He sees a light come on and a door close before he groans at what a useless wingman and absolute mood-killer his best friend is.

“I promise he’s usually a normal human being when he’s sober,” Shiro says.

Rahjim squeezes Shiro’s dick enough to make him buck his hips, “You’re a good friend,” he says, “Matt’s lucky to have you.”

“And enough about Matt,” Shiro insists, and tugs on Rahjim’s hair to get him to lean in for more kisses.

They make out until the chill air starts to get cold, with Rahjim grinding his palm against Shiro’s cock in a slow, unsatisfying way that makes Shiro a little wild with how much he wants  _ more _ .

The finish with a chaste kiss before Shiro yawns widely.

“Bed sounds like an excellent idea,” Rahjim agrees.

Inside feels incredibly warm to Shiro’s chilled skin. Rahjim goes to the fridge for some more water, while Shiro detours around Matt cocooned on the floor to hit the bathroom. Upon returning, in the light from the bathroom, he realizes that Matt isn’t on the floor at all.

Shiro has a momentary heart attack that A) Matt went wandering in search of food or B) Matt went and crawled into Rahjim’s bed and is passed out in there.

Thankfully he just took a third option, and claimed the couch that Shiro was supposed to sleep on. Rahjim wanders over and notices Shiro’s quick cycle of confusion-panic-relief, and spots Matt on the couch.

They’re trying to be quiet, to let him sleep, so Shiro tries not to be surprised when Rahjim moves in beside him, wrapping an arm around Shiro’s waist to whisper in his ear,

“Come sleep with me.”

Shiro shivers because oh hell yes does he want to. His body is coming alive with how he wants Rahjim to touch him everywhere.

“Just let me check on Matt,” Shiro says, and smiles when Rahjim kisses him. Shiro really hopes Matt isn’t awake to see him making out with a dude while practically standing over him.

Rahjim slides away to his bedroom, giving Shiro time to check to make sure Matt’s tucked in properly, has his gatorade nearby, and is still breathing. Check yes to all three.

“Hey, Matt,” Shiro whispers, there’s no response. He must be well and truly out, thank goodness, “I, uh, I’m sorry this is kind of awkward. But I’m totally gonna sleep with Rahjim so, um, sorry in advance, okay. I hope you stay asleep.”

With that done, Shiro heads into Rahjim’s bedroom. He closes the door behind himself, and suddenly feels very self-conscious.

Rahjim has the lights off except the lamps on either side of the bed. It sets the whole room in soft lighting, making it feel cozy and small even though the room itself is a lot bigger than Shiro anticipated. The bed is also huge.

Rahjim is just stripping out of his shirt, and Shiro takes a moment to admire the muscles in his back that flex as he moves. He’d felt that Rahjim was solid, but it’s another thing to see it in the flesh.

Rahjim looks up as the door closes, and smirks when he catches Shiro staring. Shiro fiddles with the hem of his shirt. He’s more than nervous about this.

“So, um, I’ve got… issues,” Shiro starts off. What an understatement.

Rahjim pauses when he’s doing, giving Shiro his full attention.

“I haven’t… I haven’t been with anyone since the accident,” Shiro admits, “so I’m… I’m nervous. And I wasn’t even thinking about hooking up with anyone, so, um— and can I borrow a shirt? I’m not comfortable without one yet.”

It’s just a one night stand, and he’s probably never going to see Rahjim again. It sucks how he has so many rules. Shiro used to be all about ‘going with the flow’.

“I hold no judgement on your body,” Rahjim says seriously, “but I want you to be comfortable. Here.” He digs into his closet quickly to grab a black cotton t-shirt, and walks across the room to place it in Shiro’s hand.

“Do you want some help with your buttons?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro considers a moment, then shakes his head, “I’m sorry, this is pretty weird,” he apologizes.

Rahjim kisses him briefly, “It’s okay. We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

It takes Shiro longer than he intends to get changed in Rahjim’s bathroom. He’s so nervous that he can’t get the buttons on his shirt undone, and ends up trying to pull it off while most of them are still done up, and gets stuck. It’s very hard to get  _ un _ stuck with one arm.

Once he throws on Rahjim’s shirt— it fits pretty well, though Rahjim might be broader in the shoulders than him— Shiro checks his teeth in the mirror to make sure he doesn’t have anything weird stuck there. It’s not like he and Rahjim weren’t making out all night already. Rahjim is very interested. There’s nothing to be scared of.

Shiro exits the bathroom holding his folded-up shirt and tries to think of where to set it. Rahjim’s sitting on his bed, shirtless in silk pj’s and reading glasses, scrolling on his phone with one hand while he’s idly palming the clear line of his erection with the other. Oh. Shiro’s mouth goes a little dry. He’s big.

Rahjim looks up and grins widely when he sees Shiro. He sets his phone on the side table and pats the space beside him.

Shiro’s not some blushing virgin. He’s had plenty of sex! There’s no reason for him to be so nervous.

There’s also really no reason for him to be fully clothed while Rahjim is nearly naked, but he couldn’t get himself to take his jeans off yet.

“Do you have an idea what your limits are?” Rahjim asks.

“Um,” Shiro’s trying to think. This close Rahjim smells incredible, and he wants to get his hands on his smooth skin, “I want to keep the shirt on. You can touch over it, but don’t push it out of the way. Otherwise… I… I don’t know if I’m ready. For everything. But I want to be.”

Kind of shitty to tell the guy you’re not sure if you’re ready to hook up, as you’re lying in his bed with his shirt on and he’s half naked.

Rahjim nods understandingly, “Then we’ll go slow. Tell me if you don’t like anything.”

They kiss again, and that helps to soothe the butterflies in Shiro’s stomach. Rahjim rolls Shiro until Shiro’s laying on his back, with Rahjim leaning over him. Shiro feels the press of Rahjim’s hand between his legs and groans.

“You said you liked that,” Rahjim says between kisses, “can we try it without your jeans?”

Shiro barely has to think before he nods in agreement. He cranes his neck to get his belt undone, and gets frustrated when it doesn’t work the first time. He drops his head with a huff, and feels Rahjim easily complete the task. Shiro’s trying to not be humiliated that simple things like a belt are now big tasks for him. Rahjim slides the belt apart, and Shiro feels him pop the button of his jeans, and then he pauses.

“You’re okay?” Rahjim asks.

“Yeah,” Shiro nods, and lifts his hips.

Rahjim tugs his jeans down his thighs, and Shiro adjusts his weight as Rahjim continues to pull them off each leg. Rahjim crawls up to him, angling himself between Shiro’s legs, and he pauses to kiss the inside of Shiro’s knees. Shiro’s trying to keep himself calm. He’s not sure if he’s excited or terrified. There’s big scars on his thighs— his left knee is a mass of scar tissue from surgery. Rahjim sees them, trails his fingers over them, but he’s not disgusted yet.

Rahjim tilts his head up to kiss Shiro again.

“Let’s see how you like this now,” he says softly.

Through the thin fabric of Shiro’s underwear he can feel the heat of Rahjim’s hand now. Rahjim finds the bulge of his cock and strokes him with an open palm. Shiro groans, and his toes curl at the intense sensation.

“Shiro, how delightful,” Rahjim purrs in surprise, curling his fingers enough to feel the outline of Shiro’s cock.

Shiro blushes at the praise. Rahjim lowers himself down on his arms until he and Shiro are pressed together. Shiro exhales shakily, closes his eyes as he lets Rahjim kiss his open mouth. Rahjim rocks against him, and Shiro tries to buck his hips in a matching rhythm. They’re both just one layer away from being naked and this feels decadent. Making out and grinding away. Shiro can’t think of anything else he wants to do— the weight and warmth of Rahjim’s body on top of his, and the strength and control in his every movement, is more than Shiro could have ever dreamed of. Rahjim pulls away, tugging at Shiro’s lip with his teeth as if he’s forcing himself to let go.

“Do you have an idea of what you’d like?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro would be happy for Rahjim to touch him like this all night. But they’ve made it to this stage, and Shiro also wants more.

“I wanna touch you, for real,” Shiro says, “and I— I wanna try. Going all the way.”

Rahjim smiles wide as he strokes Shiro enough to make Shiro gasp, “Then let’s have some fun.”

His pants are tented and Shiro can’t take his eyes off of them. Rahjim sits back and makes a show of sliding his pants down at a tantalizing pace. Shiro’s starting to feel restless with how badly he wants to touch another dick.

Rahjim takes an extra moment to tease, keeping the waistband hooked over his cock, and Shiro lets out a frustrated groan before he reaches out to tug Rahjim’s pants down himself. His hand is on Rahjim’s hip as Rahjim’s erection springs free, standing up proudly. It gives Shiro a very good estimate of how big he is.

Okay, maybe Rahjim is Shiro’s type after all.

Rahjim’s totally shaved, no body hair anywhere. Which isn’t necessarily Shiro’s preference but it’s not a turn-off either. It’s more of a reminder that Shiro  _ isn’t _ as nicely groomed as he would be if he’d known he was going to have sex tonight.

Shiro sits upright, using his grip on Rahjim’s hip to pull himself forwards, until he’s face to face with Rahjim’s cock.

“Can I?” Shiro begs.

Rahjim’s already beading with precome, so Shiro swipes his fingers through that and drags it down Rahjim’s length. He’s got a wonderfully thick cock, that’s a firm weight in Shiro’s hand and has a nice upwards curve.

“I am clean,” Rahjim promises, “but let me get a condom first.”

“Oh,” Shiro remembers. Right. It's been so long since Shiro's needed to use a condom with someone— arguably he should have been, with how his ex cheated on him regularly— that he'd totally forgotten.

Rahjim shimmies to the side of the bed— Shiro’s still not quite over how big it is— and bends over so he can rummage around in his side drawer. Shiro bites his lip as he enjoys the view.

“Ah!” Rahjim says excitedly, “how do you feel about toys?”

Shiro blinks out of his butt-induced daze.

“Toys?” he repeats.

“Vibrator,” Rahjim clarifies, “if you’re alright with that. I want to take time prepping you, and I think this will help calm your nerves. Plus, if you’re not comfortable with more, this is a great use of our time.”

Rahjim sits back on the bed, and he’s got a condom and a small purple thing in one hand. He uses the other to strip off his pants. It’s unfair how good he looks naked.

“What do you think?” Rahjim presses, “it’s external, if that worries you.”

“Um,” Shiro licks his lips, “I’ve never used one. But I’m willing to try.”

“Good,” Rahjim says, and he pats the space between his legs, “I think you’re going to love this.”

Shiro crawls over, managing to sit between Rahjim’s outstretched legs without losing too much dignity. He leans back into Rahjim’s chest and can feel the hot press of Rahjim’s erection against his back. It’s been so long since he’s had anything inside of him and Rahjim is so big. He’s right, Shiro is really tense about this.

Rahjim is reaching around him, and has unwrapped the condom and is sliding it over the vibrator.

“I’ve um, never seen one like that before,” Shiro says, as means of conversation.

“These are fantastic for external stimulation,” Rahjim says, “and I find better designed for hands than others.”

“Communication is very important,” Rahjim goes on, and he kisses the back of Shiro’s neck, “tell me what doesn’t feel like anything, what doesn’t feel good, and what feels great. I want you to relax for this. If this is all we do tonight, it’s perfect.”

“You sound like a coach,” Shiro jokes.

“I’ve heard that before,” Rahjim laughs, “now, here, hold your hand out— is this an okay speed for you?”

The vibrator is buzzing in Rahjim’s hand. Shiro feels a little nervous touching it. Of course he’s known that vibes aren’t gender specific, but he’s never bothered with them.

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Shiro says, because he really doesn’t have a point of reference for this, and then goes back to the other conversation, “you’ve done coaching?”

“Occasionally,” Rahjim says, “I’m going to take it slow, remember to relax.”

Shiro leans back into Rahjim— mindful of Rahjim’s cock between them— but he keeps his chin down to watch. Rahjim has the vibe held in his palm. It’s egg shaped, and mostly flat, with a slightly pointed tip on one end. Rahjim moves his hand to Shiro’s stomach and lightly touches him just above his bellybutton.

It feels weird.

It’s not… mind-blowing, like Shiro’s heard vibes described as.

“I want to implement an easy system,” Rahjim says. Shiro’s more focused on the weird sensation of the vibrator on his ribs, “have you heard of safewords? I want to use a rating system: red, yellow and green. If you say red, we stop. No questions, no pressure. I stop. Yellow means you’re nervous and you’d like to slow down, and green means everything is good. Okay?” Rahjim checks in again.

Shiro mulls it all over in his head, and nods, “Yeah. Like driving, right? But we— this isn’t going to be any 50 Shades stuff, right?”

“No,” Rahjim laughs, and then lowers his voice as he teases, “that’s for next time.”

Rahjim slowly trails his hand up. The buzzing is altogether weird enough that Shiro feels more inclined to get away from the sensation than enjoy it. Going up is also the opposite direction from Shiro’s dick. He’s not sure what Rahjim’s planning—

“Oh!” Shiro shouts, back arching as Rahjim brushes over a nipple.

Rahjim makes an interested sound, and his free hand comes around Shiro’s other side to palm gently at Shiro’s other nip. He circles the first with the vibe again, and the vibrations are just low enough that Shiro can feel them, but he can’t  _ feel _ them.

Rahjim grabs a handful of Shiro’s pecs in both hands and gives him a light squeeze— the vibrator buzzes away in his one palm. Shiro hisses as it presses on his nipple again.

“I had a feeling these would be sensitive,” Rahjim says triumphantly. He runs his thumbs over the raised nubs on each side, made soft by the shirt covering them. Shiro bites his lip as his breathing hitches. He feels Rahjim kiss his temple again, and work his way down until he can mouth at Shiro’s throat. With Rahjim’s hands and mouth all occupied with him, Shiro closes his eyes to bask in the moment. He has half a mind to touch himself, but he doesn’t want to move and break the spell.

“Relax,” Rahjim whispers.

He continues his motions: working his hands and his fingers and his mouth until Shiro feels like he needs to get away because if that vibrator touches his left nipple one more time he’s going to  _ scream. _ It feels raw and sensitive and he needs it to go somewhere else!

Shiro whines a complaint, and instead of trying to speak he reaches up to grab Rahjim’s hand and moves it to hold the vibe against his right, just to even out the sensation. Rahjim chuckles against his throat.

“Traffic lights, Shiro,” Rahjim scolds, “why didn’t you say anything? Where are you now?”

“Oh,” Shiro realizes, “it, it wasn’t bad— it was just… uneven. But I’m, um, green. I’m all green right now.”

“Do you want me to keep going?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro doesn’t even have to think before he moves Rahjim’s wrist down his sternum to his stomach, “I want it lower,” he says.

“I can do that,” Rahjim says.

Shiro can feel the muscles in his thighs quivering as Rahjim traces down the line from Shiro’s bellybutton towards his dick. Rahjim detours the vibrator, running into the dip of Shiro’s hip where his leg meets his groin. His skin feels extra tender there, and Shiro tenses up to avoid flinching away from the odd sensation.

“Green,” Shiro says, a little breathy. His hand is on Rahjim’s thigh, and Shiro’s trying to be mindful of digging his fingers in and hurting him but each new movement of the vibrator against his skin makes him clench his hand in an effort to not react like he’s never been touched before. Rahjim’s leaning forwards, moving the vibe down along Shiro’s leg towards his knee, and leaning heavily into Shiro as he does so.

“Relax,” Rahjim encourages him, with a kiss to Shiro’s cheekbone.

“This is the opposite of relaxing,” Shiro jokes, and gasps as Rahjim starts running the vibrator back up his inner thigh.

“Just let me take care of you,” Rahjim says, voice even and calm like he’s soothing some scared animal.

Shiro’s doesn’t appreciate being patronized, or treated like he’s a fragile flower since the accident, and he’d make that argument clear, but then Rahjim cups him through the front of his briefs and Shiro nearly arches off the bed.

Rahjim pulls his hand away just as quickly. Shiro gasps for breath.

“How was that?” Rahjim asks.

“Again,” Shiro begs, “I mean— green. So green.”

Rahjim does it again. He holds it longer too as Shiro throws his head back and moans. He has half a thought that Matt is almost right outside the door, and if he’s awake he can probably hear all of this. Shiro decides to forget about Matt when Rahjim angles his wrist to press the vibe lower, hitting the head of Shiro’s cock and his balls, and Shiro’s entire body lights up like he’s been struck by lightning.

He’s hard. Holy shit he’s hard. He hasn’t been able to get a solid erection since the accident. Even touching himself on his own hasn’t been quite enough— though Shiro blames his unfamiliarity with his left hand just as much as he blames his own trauma for that. But his briefs are getting tight, there’s a damp spot starting to form on the front. Rahjim alternates running the tip of the vibrator, a small point of sensation, in designs across Shiro’s groin, or he presses his palm against him, holding it tightly against Shiro’s dick.

“How are you feeling,” Rahjim asks smugly as Shiro collapses back against him, gasping for air. There are red marks on Rahjim’s thigh from Shiro’s blunt nails. Shiro almost wants to apologize, but he has a feeling Rahjim might like them.

“I— I’m green,” Shiro gets out, “I want it on my skin.”

Rahjim’s fingers have been hovering at the waistline of Shiro’s underwear and as soon as Shiro asks he slides them under. Shiro bites his lip to keep from shouting. He twists at the hips, he almost wants to pull away from the intense sensation, but it feels so good that his body isn’t sure which way to go.

“Do you feel comfortable undressing,” Rahjim asks, tone casual as if his very interested dick isn’t still pressed up against Shiro’s back, as if he isn’t fondling Shiro and making him curl his toes with how good the vibrator feels.

“Yes,” Shiro gasps. It’s too tight, with Rahjim’s hand and his hard-on and the movement it’s too much because no matter how hard he twists he can’t get away. He doesn’t want to get away.

Rahjim pulls his hand out of Shiro’s briefs, and Shiro leans back against him to lift his hips and tug them off. Rahjim helps lift the waistband over Shiro’s cock— something Shiro didn’t think about but is eternally grateful for. He gets one leg out and then tries to kick them off the other, fails, and decides to leave them around his ankle.

Shiro takes a moment to admire his own dick. He hasn’t been this hard in well over a year. He was starting to wonder if he even could get it up anymore. He likes his dick. It’s not quite as big and mouthwatering as Rahjim’s, but it’s nicely proportional and managed to avoid major burns or scars in the accident. Shiro’s also grossly untrimmed— he might have done a hack job shave in the shower about a month ago, but he has no one to impress so he hasn’t really maintained himself. He feels really embarrassed about that right now. Maybe he could ask for a quick break and to borrow a razor…

Then again, Rahjim’s already had his hands down Shiro’s pants. He knows what he’s getting into. And Shiro doesn’t want to waste this erection. He doesn’t know how long it’ll last, so he doesn’t have time to spare.

Shiro nearly knocks the wind out of Rahjim when he drops back onto him.

“Touch me,” Shiro orders.

“Yes sir,” Rahjim says with a smile. He cups his hand over the head of Shiro’s cock, pressing the vibe right to that sensitive tip. Shiro shouts. Rahjim curls a hand around Shiro’s waist, pulling him tight, as he grinds up against Shiro’s back with small movements.

“Hold on a moment,” Rahjim instructs, pressing a kiss to Shiro’s shoulder. He leans over to grab the bottle of lube that he’d set on his bedside table, and squirts enough in hand to slick up the vibrator.

Rahjim rubs the vibe between his palms a moment to warm up the lube, and then gets his hand around Shiro’s dick and starts jerking him off in slow tugs. Shiro hisses at the cool gel at first, but it becomes soothing to feel the glide and pressure of Rahjim’s hand around him, and the unending sensation of the vibrator against him makes him start breathing faster and holding onto Rahjim tightly.

“Do you want to try a higher setting?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro blinks his eyes open to look at him.

“How are you?” Rahjim asks.

“Green,” Shiro nods his head, “yeah. Let’s try it.”

Shiro theoretically knows what a higher setting is. The vibrator gets louder— in an off-thought Shiro wonders if Matt can hear it and again hopes for Matt’s sake that he sleeps right through all of this- and when Rahjim touches it to Shiro’s balls Shiro realizes he had absolutely no idea what a higher setting meant. And he doesn’t know why he didn’t ask for it before.

Holding it in any one place for too long is almost unbearable, and Shiro struggles to keep his legs open for Rahjim.

Shiro’s flushed down his chest right to his groin. He’s starting to sweat; his bangs are sticking to his forehead. The shirt he’s wearing feels too hot, but he’s not ready to take it off. He wishes he could, but not yet. Rahjim sucks at his neck as he presses the tip of the vibrator right under the head of Shiro’s cock, and Shiro keens, kicking as he rides out the wave of intense pleasure.

“Here,” Rahjim says, and he sounds a little breathless too, Shiro’s relieved. Rahjim reaches out to grip Shiro under the thigh, and pulls his leg so Shiro can hook his foot under Rahjim’s knee. Shiro does the same to the other without further prompting, anchoring his trembling legs open so Rahjim can have full access.

“Remember the traffic lights,” Rahjim says, “tell me as soon as it’s too much.”

Rahjim cups the tip of Shiro’s cock again, and with the higher setting it’s even  _ more _ intense than before. Shiro’s entire body goes taut and he would have arched off the bed if Rahjim wasn’t holding him down. Rahjim holds his hand on him for so long Shiro thinks he might just come or die, and then the hand is away and the vibrator is up at Shiro’s nipples again and it feels so good but it’s not enough. He’s rutting up against the air, dying for some friction. He can feel the heavy slide of Rahjim’s cock against his back, as Rahjim sighs softly with each drag, but for Shiro there’s nothing to press against, unless it’s the vibrator.

Rahjim moves his hand down to jerk him again, a slow, languid tug to the top, and then holding the vibrator a moment too long at the head until Shiro whimpers, and then a slow slide down. Shiro’s legs are shaking, his feet are cramping from tensing and untensing so much. He feels so good. He feels  _ alive _ .

“Don’t fight it,” Rahjim says breathlessly, “I’m going to turn it up again.”

_ Again _ ? Shiro wants to demand just how many settings there are on this thing.

Instead, he moans, “Yes!”

The buzzing gets louder as Rahjim hits the button, and Shiro would feel embarrassed for Matt but Rahjim is holding the vibe against his dick again, sliding it right up to the tip where it makes Shiro’s body arch and his thighs seize up and his toes curl. He’s shouting, short cries as he tries to keep quiet. But Rahjim doesn’t move his hand. He’s still holding. It’s so much sensation. Shiro nearly curls a knee to his chest. It’s bordering on pain, it’s just so much. It’s not stopping, there’s no end to it. Rahjim’s holding him tightly. Shiro can’t even shout, he’s gasping for breath and trying to hold onto something— anything— to ground himself. He might just come from this— if he doesn’t die first.

Rahjim lets him go without warning.

Shiro sags in relief, gasping for air like he’s just run a marathon.

“How was that?” Rahjim asks. Shiro’s curled forwards on himself. His dick is still tingling with sensation. He nearly feels raw, like everything’s too much sensation. He sucks down a few mouthfuls of air, before he nods a shaky yes.

“Color?” Rahjim presses, with a soft kiss to Shiro’s cheek.

Shiro’s leaking precome like he’s about to burst. He’s having such a hard time thinking past his erection that it takes him a few tries.

“Green,” Shiro says. It’s more of a gasp. He sounds a little hoarse. He might have been shouting more than he realized.

“Good,” Rahjim says. And there’s a positively diabolical glee to his voice that makes Shiro snap his head up in alarm— but then Rahjim’s got his hand on Shiro’s dick and Shiro can  _ feel _ it when Rahjim increases the intensity again.

Shiro nearly screams. He’s still too sensitive from the last bit. He’s already trying to flinch away. Rahjim doesn’t move his hand. Shiro tries to hook his foot under Rahjim’s knee again, but he can’t coordinate himself that well. He’s trying to curl in on himself, Rahjim’s holding him up and kissing his throat, his shoulder, his cheek. Shiro’s squirming, practically thrashing as he rides out the unstoppable stimulus of the vibe against his sensitive skin.

His body feels like it’s short-circuiting. It doesn’t know how to handle this much pleasure. It can’t decide if this is actually painful or not, and that razor edge feels so good that Shiro wants to ride it forever.

“Rahjim I’m gonna—” Shiro can barely get the words out, his heart is racing and his lungs can barely get enough air, “I’m gonna— you should—”

“You should come,” Rahjim purrs, pulling Shiro tighter against himself, “I want you to come. I want to see it. You deserve it.”

Shiro’s never been given permission like that before, and it surprises him that for a moment he turns his head to stare at Rahjim, and then Rahjim increases the setting on the vibrator  _ again _ , and Shiro loses track of everything.

It nearly feels like an arms race— will Shiro come first? Or will he go out of his mind with pleasure before that can happen. He’s clawing at the sheets, kicking his foot and trying to give himself a lever to thrust up against Rahjim’s hand— anything for more friction. His whole body is tight, he’s gripping Rahjim’s thigh so hard he must be hurting him, and he can’t close his mouth to stop himself from yelling if he tried.

It’s like a switch being thrown, when he finally comes. Rahjim holds the vibrator to him the whole time, lets Shiro come all over his hand and starts jerking him off to help. Shiro starts to come down, finally is able to feel his body releasing tension and letting him sink back against Rahjim. The vibrator’s still going strong, sliding along his dick and making him whimper in time with Rahjim’s fast motions. Shiro’s hips are still rising to meet Rahjim’s grip, albeit with short, weak thrusts. Rahjim drops the vibrator onto the bed between Shiro’s open legs and finishes working him through his climax with just his hand. Shiro lets out a sound that might be a sob. He hasn’t had an orgasm this intense in years. There are genuine tears in his eyes, and he doesn’t feel coherent enough to even wipe at them.

Rahjim kisses his shoulder.

“Good boy,” Rahjim says.

Shiro frowns, but his stomach does a somersault at the words. Rahjim keeps stroking him. Shiro’s still panting with exertion. His thighs, the bed, and Rahjim’s hand are all covered with come. Shiro wants to apologize for it, but he feels so boneless that he doesn’t want to move even his mouth. Rahjim’s hand on his cock is starting to feel like it’s too much, and Shiro groans his displeasure and tries to wiggle away.

Rahjim lets him go, and kisses Shiro’s cheekbone again, “You have a beautiful o-face,” he says.

“Thanks?” Shiro slurs out.

“And how do you feel?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro lets out a long, content sigh and relaxes even further into Rahjim. He can feel the lateness of the hour now, and all the drinks he’s had tonight. It’s all working to make him feel lightheaded and soft.

“So good,” Shiro elaborates.

Rahjim’s trailing his fingers on his clean hand up and down Shiro’s shirt. It’s a soothing motion. Shiro likes it.

“There is no obligation to say yes,” Rahjim says slowly, “but how do you feel about me fucking you tonight?”

Shiro gasps softly at the thought, before he can even think of anything else. In that brief moment before any doubt can hit him, all he can think is:  _ yes, please _ .

“I wanna try,” Shiro says, “I don’t know— I’m not sure if I can—”

“Sshh,” Rahjim says softly, “we’ll go slow. Traffic lights remember?”

Rahjim tilts Shiro’s chin up so that he can kiss him. Despite everything else it’s slow and wet, a drag of tongue and the sharp press of teeth on lips.

“Lay down however you’re most comfortable,” Rahjim instructs as he pulls away.

“We’re gonna make a mess of the bed,” Shiro points out, and gestures to his come on the sheets as evidence.

“I have extras,” Rahjim assures him, “but I’ll grab some towels.”

Rahjim slides out from behind Shiro and makes for the bathroom. Shiro manages to bundle up the top sheet together, using it to wipe himself off too, and is thankful that they kicked the quilt out of the way. He also has to deal with trying to turn off the vibrator while it’s inside the condom, and slippery with come and lube. It’s not his best moment and he keeps dropping it on himself. His limbs all feel weak and shaky, like he might fall over at any second. He sprawls in the middle of the bed for the hell of it, sinking into the thick pillows and stretches himself out. He feels… he feels so good right now. Comfortable.

Rahjim comes back into the room and grins when he sees Shiro making himself at home. He sets some folded towels on the bed. He’s tied his hair back into a half-bun, keeping it out of his face.

“You look very good in my bed,” Rahjim says.

“It feels good to be here,” Shiro flirts back, automatically.

Rahjim procures a condom from the bedside table on Shiro’s side of the bed.

“Do you just keep those everywhere?” Shiro asks.

“Preparation is important,” Rahjim points out.

Shiro almost laughs, “That’s… such a bachelor thing to do. Oh my god.”

He feels like he should give Rahjim some privacy, for some reason, but he can’t tear his eyes away as Rahjim opens and slides on the condom with ease.

Shiro can’t help but look for the can of worms, “You do this a lot?”

“Pick up handsome strangers and their drunk friend from the bar?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro feels a little embarrassed now, “No, um, the sex. You said you were like… a sex coach?”

“I’m happily non-monogamous,” Rahjim says, “if that’s what you’re asking about.”

He crawls onto the bed and his cock swings hypnotizingly between his legs.  

“But I get the feeling you’re asking if you’re just another notch in my bedpost?” Rahjim asks. He crawls forwards until Shiro leans back, until he’s stretched out over Shiro and their cocks are rubbing together.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Shiro grimaces, “sorry.”

“I hope it wouldn’t bother you if you were, but you’re not a conquest,” Rahjim explains, “I had no intention of taking a lover tonight. But then I saw you.”

Shiro narrows his eyes, and goes for a joke, “That sounds a little stalker-ish.”

“It got you into my bed,” Rahjim points out. He leans down to kiss Shiro. Fair point.

“But I do have multiple partners, on the regular,” Rahjim explains when they pull apart, “over the years it’s become a small group, and we try to stay within our ranks if only to avoid unnecessary risks.”

“A group?” Shiro echoes, “like… a group of people and you all have sex with each other?”

Rahjim nods, “We’re not required exclusive, but we try to be. It makes life easier— which is why I wasn’t looking to sleep with anyone. I have a friend visiting tomorrow.”

“One of your sex friends?” Shiro says. He can’t believe this, “you have a travelling group of swingers?”

“Ulaz is one of my oldest friends,” Rahjim explains, “I’ve known him since our undergrads. We like to visit, catch up, and yes, we often have sex.”

“That is…” Shiro tries to think of a word, and only comes up with, “different.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Rahjim agrees, and then sits back, “but let’s not get distracted. I have been very excited about your ass all night.”

Shiro almost snorts with laughter. Rahjim stretches to reach the lube and digs out a glove too.

“I believe strongly that sex should never hurt unless you want it to,” Rahjim says seriously, “and so I take my time with preparation and foreplay. So we won’t do anything until you feel you’re ready, and if it turns out you might need more prep, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Shiro swallows, a little nervous, “Okay,” he says.

Rahjim slides a hand under Shiro’s leg, gently coaxing him to lift it to put it over Rahjim’s shoulder. When Rahjim leans forwards it tilts Shiro’s hips up, nearly bending him in half. It also pulls a muscle tight in his leg, making him flinch.

Rahjim catches the look and sits back, lowering Shiro’s leg. Shiro’s hip pops traitorously.

“I used to be really flexible,” Shiro says slowly, a little in shock, “and I’m doing physio… I should… I used to—”

“You aren’t warmed up,” Rahjim consoles him, “it’s okay. Are you okay on your stomach?”

Shiro’s trying not to think about how much his body has been changed, and how he still barely knows it. Instead of responding he rolls over, taking care to keep the soft towel underneath him. He pillows his head on his crossed arms, staring at the open door to the bathroom in lieu of anything else. He feels Rahjim crawl up him again, and the slide of his cock on Shiro’s ass. Rahjim kisses the back of his neck.

“I don’t want to presume, but I’d like to say that next time I’ll make sure to warm you up properly, and then you can show me just how flexible you are.” He grinds down against Shiro, and Shiro shivers. He’s so big. Shiro’s not sure if it’s possible for him to take a dick that big.

“Next time?” Shiro asks.

Rahjim tugs at the shell of Shiro’s ear with his teeth, making Shiro flinch with a laugh, “Next time. You should get tested, and I have my current results. And if we’re both clean then I want to fuck you without protection.”

“I like the sound of that,” Shiro murmurs. Rahjim kisses his cheek and then moves back to kneel between Shiro’s legs.

Shiro hears the pop of the lube lid, and fights to stay calm.

“So you’re currently single?” Rahjim presumes.

“Yeah,” Shiro says, and with a bitter laugh, adds, “thankfully.”

“Oh,” Rahjim says, interested, “there’s a story there.”

_ The story is that if he couldn’t have me, no one could _ . Shiro nearly says, and thinks about the drop in his stomach as the truck hit the barrier. He doesn’t want to talk about psycho exes.

“The accident,” he says instead.

“Ah,” Rahjim says, and he sounds like he’s grimacing. Probably regretting bringing home someone with so much baggage. Shiro feels Rahjim’s hand on his ass, and he spreads his legs a little wider for better access. After a moment, the slick slide of Rahjim’s gloved hand.

“I’m sorry,” Rahjim says quietly, “I don’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t know,” Shiro points out, “it’s okay, he survived. The point being: I’m happily single.”

“Happily?” Rahjim echoes, massaging his fingers against Shiro. It’s a very unfamiliar sensation, after all this time. Sendak was always a fan of just using spit, though Shiro could convince him to use lube most of the time, but he always complained that it never felt good if there wasn’t friction. Rahjim’s only just starting to touch Shiro and it feels excessively slick. He’s not even doing anything, really, just touching and smearing lube all over.

“I, uh,” Shiro laughs self-deprecatingly, “I kind of have terrible taste in men.”

“I hope that isn’t a commentary on tonight,” Rahjim points out.

Shiro shoves his face into his arm with a groan, “Oh, shit, sorry. If it’s any consolation— and it should be— I actually didn’t think you were my type.”

“And yet you came home with me?” Rahjim points out.

“Because you were nice,” Shiro pauses, “and a good kisser.”

“You just wanted me for my body,” Rahjim teases him, and pinches Shiro’s ass, “now, are you alright if I start stretching?”

“Yeah,” Shiro nods softly.

He closes his eyes to ride the feel of the first push of Rahjim’s finger against him. He’s still soft and boneless from his orgasm before, but it feels like it’s too much, it’s not going to work and it’s going to hurt— but he feels the tip of his finger slide in and it’s just enough that Shiro rocks back against him.

“What a delight,” Rahjim praises him, “you’re doing so well.”

They keep working up fingers, chatting to fill the time as Rahjim starts thrusting his fingers in and out of Shiro. He keeps stopping to add more lube, to check how Shiro’s feeling. Shiro’s never been treated like this before. He feels a little spoiled.

He kind of likes it.

If it wasn’t for the burn of arousal gathering in his gut, Shiro could almost fall asleep with how tenderly Rahjim is treating him. He feels warm, and safe, despite that fact that this is a total stranger.

“Should we give it a try?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro can barely lift his head to nod, “Green,” he says.

Rahjim instructs him briefly, and Shiro passes him a pillow and lets Rahjim help him tuck a pillow under Shiro’s hips, and safely under the towel.

“I’m going to go slow,” Rahjim instructs, “the instant it feels like it hurts, you tell me and we’ll stretch you more. Or if you decide you don’t want to do this, you tell me, okay?”

Shiro nods, a little nervous. He’s so slick he’s practically dripping, but Rahjim is still so big.

Rahjim braces one hand on the small of Shiro’s back, and uses his other hand to guide his cock in. He’s slicked up with lube as well.

The press of his cock against Shiro almost makes Shiro call it all off. Rahjim’s dick is so much thicker than his fingers. It’s going to hurt, he knows it. Curiosity holds his tongue, and he holds his breath and braces for pain.

It’s a stretch, it’s uncomfortable, but it doesn’t hurt. Rahjim pushes against him, and then Shiro’s body gives way, and he’s sliding in.

Shiro whimpers, and bites into the meat of his arm. It doesn’t hurt but it’s so much. It feels so good. He’s doing it! He’s not broken, after all.

“Are you okay?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro lifts his head to look back at him, “Fuck me,” he orders. Rahjim’s not even halfway into him, but Shiro’s convinced. It doesn’t hurt! Shiro’s quickly losing any reservation he had about this. He’s abstained for over a year now, his body is in dire need.

Rahjim grins excitedly, “Okay, okay. Remember— talk to me.”

He slides in the rest of the way, too slowly for Shiro’s liking. But it still draws a groan out of both of them. Rahjim uses his knees to push Shiro’s legs further apart, and then he’s snapping his hips in short thrusts that rock Shiro against the bed.

“Yes!” Shiro groans, pressing his face into the crook of his elbow. His moans are short, light and airy, timed to match Rahjim’s thrusts.

Rahjim switches to long, powerful thrusts that seem to shake the bed and punch out long, guttural moans from low in Shiro’s chest.

The whole room is filled with the sound of sex— skin slapping against skin, the mattress squeaking, Shiro moaning. Shiro almost feels sorry for Rahjim’s neighbors— they might even be knocking the headboard into the wall— but this feels so good that he wants everyone to know he’s having some of the best sex of his life.

After a while they change positions. Shiro can’t hold himself up on his hands and knees with only one arm. He rests on his elbow and stump for a while, ass high in the air, for Rahjim to stand on his knees and get strong, powerful thrusts that make Shiro’s eyes roll back into his head. That position hurts Shiro’s shoulder after a little while, so they switch to laying on their sides, Shiro’s leg up over Rahjim’s thigh. Shiro has his hand on Rahjim’s hip, fingers digging into the meat of Rahjim’s ass so he can feel the movement of Rahjim’s thrusts and try to meet them. He’s craning his neck as Rahjim does the same so they can make out, moaning shamelessly into each other’s mouth. Rahjim is jerking him off again. Rahjim comes only moments before Shiro does, and it’s the tightness of his fist on Shiro’s cock as he orgasms that sends Shiro over the edge.

They both catch their breaths. Rahjim starts kissing at Shiro’s neck again.

“You feel incredible,” Rahjim whispers, like it’s a secret, “please promise me you’ll let me have you again.”

Shiro wants to say that he’s really not someone that anyone should want for a second time. He’s damaged goods. But he’s interrupted by a yawn. Rahjim laughs at him.

They cleanup quickly, tossing the used towel and warm rag for wiping off in the direction of Rahjim’s laundry basket. It’s really no question when Rahjim pulls Shiro close to wrap his arms around him. Shiro still doesn’t think he’s ready for a relationship— but this? Being held and kissed and adored like this? He could be happy with an arrangement.

* * *

 

Shiro wakes up with his face pressed into a soft pillow, and Rahjim nearly draped over him. He’s a warm, solid weight, arms wrapped tight around Shiro’s waist and his face in the crook of Shiro’s neck. His head hurts and his mouth feels slimy with that particularly awful aftertaste of a night out. He’s not horrifically hungover, though he feels like he’s so dry he could drink an entire swimming pool, but it’s much nicer to go back to sleep than face all the aches and pains of waking up. Shiro shimmies a little closer to Rahjim and closes his eyes. This feels really nice. Almost impossibly nice. He’s smiling.

He hears the shift in Rahjim’s breathing as Rahjim wakes up and adjusts to Shiro’s movement, and then a soft kiss to the back of his neck.

“Good morning,” Rahjim murmurs, and he shifts his hips so Shiro can feel that he’s half-hard. Shiro’s surprised that he’s got morning wood too, though really, he hasn’t had sex in so long that it’s no surprise his body is ready for more.

“Morning,” Shiro says, and he wiggles around so he can roll over.

The room is dark, with the blinds drawn and the lights off, so everything still feels dreamlike and a little surreal. Despite what must be some horrific dragon breath, Rahjim kisses Shiro.

They break and Shiro snuggles up to Rahjim, resting his head on Rahjim’s shoulder and closing his eyes. He’s really enjoying the rise and fall of Rahjim’s breathing, and relishing in the reality of being in bed with another person.

“How are you feeling?” Rahjim inquires.

“A little hungover,” Shiro admits with a laugh, “but really, really good.”

“I know a great cure for hangovers,” Rahjim says.

Shiro’s pretty sure he knows the answer, “Yeah?”

Rahjim twists so they’re face to face— forcing Shiro to give up his pillow with a pout— and reaches down to get a handful of Shiro’s ass, “I hear orgasms are great for headaches.”

Shiro rolls his eyes and Rahjim laughs.

“Well,” Shiro decides, “it can’t hurt to try.”

Rahjim kisses him again, and they roll so Rahjim is on his back and Shiro’s laying on top of him. Rahjim goes to put his hands on Shiro’s waist, only to find that Shiro’s shirt had ridden up in the night. Shiro pulls away, worried, but before he has time to be concerned about Rahjim seeing his scars, Rahjim’s tugged the shirt back down and set his hands where he wanted them.

“Thank you,” Shiro whispers.

Rahjim dismisses him with another kiss, “How about like this?” he asks, “would this work for you?”

Sex like this? Shiro riding him and practically in control? Sendak was never a fan of the position, but Shiro always liked the idea of being able to set the pace. That was before, when he liked being the center of attention. Now he’s not sure if he’s comfortable with that.

“We can try,” Shiro says. He pushes himself upright with a hand on Rahjim’s chest so he’s straddling him. Rahjim’s dark hair is spread out under his head, and his pupils are blown, which make his dark eyes even darker.

“Can you reach the condoms?” Rahjim asks.

Shiro has to stretch, while Rahjim holds his thighs to counterbalance. They manage to make it work and Shiro triumphantly snags the lube and a condom. Shiro bites the corner of the wrapper and rips it open in what he hopes is a sexy move. He’s getting really good at opening foils with one hand.

Unfortunately, he also rips the condom. Which is why Shiro’s always been told to never use his teeth to open one. After Rahjim assures him he’s not an embarrassment, they have to team up for Shiro to grab another condom. Rahjim takes the break to readjust his pillows so he’s propped up into a seated position.

Shiro lets Rahjim open this one, but takes it from him.

“Can I put it on you?” he asks.

Rahjim licks his lips, and settles back against his pillows, “Of course.”

Shiro’s about to push back the blankets out of the way, where they’re bunched up at his hips, but then they hear a  _ thud _ and a scramble of feet and, moments later, the sounds of Matt puking his guts out.

“He’s alive,” Shiro says in astonishment. He should probably get up and check on Matt… but he’s also about to have some nice morning sex and that’s nearly more appealing than his best friend.

The puking stops, and they hear the toilet flush and the soft sound of Matt’s footsteps leading back to the couch.

“I think he’ll be fine,” Rahjim says.

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees. Decision made. Matt’s probably gone back to sleep to avoid his hangover. Shiro has time to wait until Matt’s well enough to leave, and he knows exactly how he wants to spend it. He gets a little distracted in kissing Rahjim again, and letting Rahjim start handling his cock with big, warm hands and coaxing a little more life into it.

“Shiro are you in here?” Matt demands as he throws open the door.

Shiro nearly headbutts Rahjim in surprise and sits up, pulling the blankets up to make sure his bare ass isn’t hanging out.

Matt sighs in relief and leans against the doorframe when he sees Shiro. He has a box of pizza balanced on one hand, and a half-eaten slice in the other.

“Oh, thank god,” he says, “I thought I remembered you being here but I didn’t know when that was.”

“Matt,” Shiro says slowly, “where did you get the pizza?” Rahjim’s hand starts pumping his cock again, very slowly. Shiro freezes.

Matt shrugs, “I must have pre-ordered it last night, cause it showed up this morning. Thank god for drunk me being a pal. You hungry? I got you one too.”

“Uh,” Shiro says eloquently. How to say ‘no thank you and can you please leave because I’m right about to have sex’ politely?

Rahjim leans out from behind Shiro, “The wifi password is in the cupboard beside the fridge. And the remotes for the tv should be on the coffee table. Order a movie if you’d like, my treat. But, if you don’t mind, we’ll join you in a little while.”

Matt’s eyes nearly bug out of his head, and he looks from Rahjim, to Shiro’s increasingly red face, to the empty side of the bed.

“Oh my god,” Matt says slowly, and then barks a shout of laughter, “oh my god— I’m— I thought you were there, sleeping, oh, god, oh my god Shiro why didn’t you  _ say anything _ ? You asshole! Well, when you’re done stuffing your ass, come join me to stuff your face.”

Matt has to shove his slice of pizza in his mouth to free a hand to close the door, and he nearly slams it on his way out.

“Oh my god,” Shiro says, embarrassed. He covers his face with his hand and pitches forwards so he’s leaning into Rahjim’s chest. Matt is the worst person Shiro’s ever met and he’s never taking him out in public ever again.

“I hope I didn’t come across as rude,” Rahjim admits.

“I can’t believe he didn’t— he didn’t realize that we,” Shiro snorts, “oh my god Matt just walked in on this.”

“Are you okay to continue?” Rahjim asks nervously, “or… are you uncomfortable?”

He’s stroking Shiro’s thigh soothingly with one hand, while the other is still loosely curled around Shiro’s cock. Shiro lifts his head to take in Rahjim’s handsome features. He still can’t believe someone this nice is interested in him. A nice guy with an even nicer dick. One that Shiro is feeling increasingly certain that he wants to spend more time with.

“We’re already here,” Shiro says, as an answer, “and you gave him the wifi password. Matt will be fine.”

Rahjim grins, “Then let's have some fun.”

* * *

Matt doesn’t stop teasing Shiro for the entire trip home. Shiro’s pretty sure he’s just trying to keep himself distracted so he doesn’t throw up in the cab. It only gets worse when they do get home, and Matt announces them with: “Katie you won’t  _ believe _ what Shiro did!”

Shiro’s honestly too proud of himself to really care. Besides, all it takes is a well-timed comment about Matt’s exploits last night, and their housemate is more than happy to let loose her temper on her older brother.

* * *

 

After spending most of Sunday recovering and finishing the last of the homework they’d neglected, Shiro had spent the rest of the night getting Matt and Katie to help him pick a good outfit for his internship interview. Katie decided to help by snapchatting everything to the rest of The Gang, so Lance, Hunk and Keith technically helped too.

They’d all agreed that the outfit Shiro had was modern, yet traditional enough, and didn’t make him look like a dumb student but not like he was trying too hard. So, it covered all angles.

He’d also gotten a text from Rahjim last night, ‘ _ good luck with the interview tomorrow. If you’re available, we should celebrate _ ’. That, and the good-luck bruise Rahjim had sucked into Shiro’s inner thigh, kept Shiro smiling all night.

Now, standing in the reception of the building, Shiro wishes he could have kept that confidence for the interview today.

The secretary smiles reassuringly at him, “Okay, Mr. Shirogane,” Shiro’s used to how people mispronounce his last name, and doesn’t bother to correct her, “take the elevator to the third floor, and it’ll be the second room on your left. Good luck!”

Shiro takes a moment to breathe in the elevator. He’s wearing his prosthetic today. After a lot of debate, he decided he wanted to have both arms for his interview— if only because he knew he’d be shaking hands. But now the cuff feels sweaty and tight and he’s scared they’re going to focus on him being an amputee rather than him being an actual candidate for the work semester.

He gets to the third floor, takes a deep breath, and puts his game face on.

Shiro counts the rooms off, hopes he has the right one, and knocks as he pokes his head through the open door.

“Hi, I’m Shiro, for the interview,” he announces.

The man at the desk looks up and smiles, and waves him in.

“Hullo Shiro, I’m Coran.”

Coran stands and holds out his hand. Shiro holds out his right without betraying how uneasy he feels. Coran goes through the typical surprise-reassessing-uneasy composure that most people do when confronted with his prosthetic, but he shakes Shiro’s hand after only a moment’s hesitation.

“Now, this was meant to be a two-person interview, but I’m afraid my colleague is running late and probably won’t be joining us. Is that okay?” Coran explains.

Shiro shakes his head, and settles into the seat in front of Coran’s desk, “That’s fine by me, sir.”

“Now,” Coran takes a moment and glances over the papers on his desk, “let me start off by asking, it says Takashi on your resume but you introduced yourself as Shiro. Which do you prefer?”

“I go by either, but most people do call me—”

The door opens behind Shiro, and he carefully schools himself not to look startled. He’s calm, he’s so calm that nothing can phase him.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” a familiar voice says, and Shiro feels his stomach drop as he turns to look over his shoulder.

“Rahjim,” Coran beams, “we were just getting started. This is one of our potential interns, Mr. —”

Rahjim makes eye contact with him and Shiro watches a very complex series of emotions pass over his face in an instant.

“Shiro?” Rahjim says incredulously.

“-gane,” Shiro finishes quickly, pronouncing his name correctly. He fakes a laugh, and tries to understand why the fuck his one-night-stand, turned potential-friend-with-benefits is also apparently his potential boss, “it’s Japanese, so a lot of English speakers can misread it.”

“Yes,” Rahjim says, and Shiro sees him shake his stupor off and he clears his throat, “well, again, sorry I’m late.”

Rahjim takes the seat beside Shiro. He’s dressed in a casual suit and Shiro could scream at how good he looks. He looks like he just walked out of a fashion magazine. He pointedly does not meet Shiro’s gaze.

“Shiro, your resume is quite impressive,” Coran continues, oblivious to the skyrocketing levels of anxiety in the room, “but I’d like to hear why you would like to work for us.”

“Well it’s simple,” Shiro says with casual confidence, like he has more than enough to spare, “I want to work with the best engineers in the business."

* * *

Shiro makes it all the way through the interview without getting distracted by Rahjim, even when Rahjim and Coran quiz him on different theories and concepts, and Rahjim folds his hands in his lap and for a split second all Shiro can think about is everything those hands did to him just yesterday.

He’s dismissed with handshakes and smiles, and Shiro makes it into the elevator before he starts to process what happened.

Holy  _ fuck _ .

He’s in the lobby again when his phone buzzes. It’s Rahjim.

‘ _ Going for lunch in 15. Join me? We need to talk.’ _

Shiro does have afternoon classes, and he debates a moment before agreeing. He texts Hunk and promises beer in exchange for notes.

Yeah, lunch is probably a really good idea. There is a lot they need to talk about.

**Author's Note:**

> This got EXCESSIVELY long, lmao. 
> 
> For anyone who's interested, backstory is that Shiro and Matt were roomies in residence, where they met and Shiro got all but adopted into the Holt family. Shiro was a big ol' ho from 18-22ish, where he met Sendak and they started dating. Things obviously went terribly wrong and it's more-or-less implied that Sendak caused the accident that Shiro lost his arm in on purpose. Shiro spent a year in recovery and is now trying to go back to school, but now he's taking classes with Katie (Pidge) and the others, even though they're younger. Katie, Matt and Shiro are renting a house together, and Keith, Lance and Hunk are living in a res apartment complex together and the six of them hang out a Lot. 
> 
> But also, if things go well, Shiro's about to get inducted into a harem of potential sugar-daddies (and others) lmao.


End file.
